Laundry Day
by fromexilewithlove
Summary: Even laundry day for the Rowdy 3 is full of surprises...
1. Rolling Rowdies

"What are we doing today, Martin?" Cross called from the floor of the back of the van, which was littered with red and yellow carnage from the morning's venture to destroy a McDonald's in pursuit of food for Amanda. Amanda and Vogel were playing around him with a set of Happy Meal toys that had also made it back into the van. Beast had been fast asleep under a pile of blankets behind the driver's seat, but sat up in instant alertness to wait for Martin's answer.

Martin hesitated only a fraction of a second before announcing, "Laundry."

For a moment, absolute silence and stillness fell over the van; then, all hell broke loose as every member of the Rowdy 3 (including Martin) groaned, gagged, shouted over each other, and generally had a fantastic time complaining about the inevitability of laundry day. When the energy began to die down, Cross stirred it all up again by yelling, "It's not my turn!"

The argument that resumed quickly turned into one about whose clothes smelled the worst. Martin watched in the rearview mirror until Amanda took a drink of soda, then drawled, "Not it."

"Not it!" Cross and Vogel screamed simultaneously, and Amanda squealed in protest. She threw the empty soda cup at Martin, who turned his head for an instant with a canine grin for her. Beast just cackled, having been taken out of the laundry rotation after her first excursion (Martin and Amanda still weren't sure how Beast had managed to start a fire in the laundromat, but weren't yet willing to chance it again.)

"Looks like it's you and me, Mandy," Gripps chuckled from the front passenger seat.

Amanda leaned over the front seat and shared a conspiratorial smile with him, "Well, I can't be sorry about that," she dropped her voice for Gripps' ears only, "But we'll have to figure out how to make these other fuckers pay."

He smiled back at her, his eyes only widening slightly for a moment in response. She retreated again into the back of the van and helped Vogel and Cross unceremoniously stuff laundry into a bag, groaning at the light when Martin stopped the van and opened the door.

She trailed Gripps and Martin, who each carried one of two gigantic bags of laundry, into the dingy space advertised with an overly bright orange and blue sign that declared "Hector's Laundromat". The other Rowdies gamboled around them, a whirlwind of noise and energy that imploded into the doors of the laundromat like a reverse bomb. This early in the morning, the only people inside were a middle-aged woman who did not look amused, and two young men who eyed them nervously and whose outfits clearly marked them as Mormon missionaries.

She was idly wondering why Hector would install such a hideously garish sign while painting the inside of his establishment mud brown, while Martin walked up and down the aisles of the laundromat, checking it out. When he was satisfied that no threats were lurking in any corners, Martin threw his bag down unceremoniously on the ground and found a seat where he could keep an eye on things. Cross flopped down on a bench, his head hanging haphazardly off the edge while he rested his boots on the window ledge above it. Beast and Vogel were drawn immediately to a dryer window, mesmerized by the clothes spinning around and around inside, their heads circling around and around.

Gripps nudged Amanda toward the vending machine stocked with laundry detergent, and she smiled at him as she surveyed the selection, "Let's see….'Spring Renewal', 'Botanical Rain', and 'Nonscented'. Botanical rain?"

He put a hand to his mouth in thought, tilting his head, and she fed quarters into the machine decisively, "You're right…we're more of a 'Spring Renewal' crowd. Especially after Wendimoor."

Martin chucked softly from the side and grunted, "Just pick whatever don't turn our clothes _pink_ , Drummer."

She flipped him off without looking at him, but her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The first time she had taken a turn doing the laundry, she washed all of the underwear together (including a pair of red panties). The red bled into the wash, staining everyone else's underwear a perfect shade of baby girl pink. Four months later, the relentless teasing was still going strong, and the boys were still wearing pink underwear.

As Gripps and Amanda began to sort through the laundry, Vogel grabbed Beast and they began rolling down the aisle in mimicry of the clothes in the dryer, screaming with laughter.

Cross sang from his vantage point, "Rollin, rollin', rollin….Keep those Rowdies rollin'….Good ol' Rowdy bowling….todaaaayy…."

Cross eyed Amanda with a wicked grin, "Oh boy, do our clothes stink….Manda's gonna turn them pink…."

He stopped singing abruptly when Amanda threw a sock at him. Actually, everyone froze in place when Amanda threw a sock at him.

Then Vogel screamed, "SOCK WAAARRR!"

The battle was on.


	2. Chocolate and Gas

The end of the Great Sock War left Rowdy laundry (and Rowdies) scattered around the laundromat, the three non-Rowdy non-combatants having fled the building.

Coming down off of an adrenaline (and feeding) high, Amanda half-heartedly threw a last sock at Martin and sighed, "We're never going to get the clothes washed if the rest of you don't clear out for a while."

He frowned at her and growled, and she grinned, "Don't growl at me. Go buy some underwear for you and the boys that isn't pink."

Gripps interjected, "I like the pink underwear."

"Go buy some underwear for you, Cross, and Vogel that isn't pink," Amanda pressed.

Martin's face scrunched up in disbelief, "You want me to take Cross to get kicked out of another Wal-Mart? Really?"

"Hey!" Cross shouted from the next row, "Wasn't my fault!"

Vogel chimed in, "Yeah, the robot thing wasn't listening!"

Martin pulled out a cigarette, and Gripps grunted, "No smoking allowed in here."

Martin groaned and sat up, "See you in a couple of hours."

Gripps smirked at Amanda as the others (noisily) decamped, and she tilted her head," What are you up to?"

He shrugged, "Could just want some alone time," he waited until the van was out of sight, then pulled a chocolate bar out of his jacket," Or…."

"Dude!" she beamed at him, "I love you so much right now."

They ate the chocolate together in companionable silence before gathering the scattered clothes and stuffing them into some open machines. Feeling a little guilty, Amanda folded the clothes of the Mormon missionaries and the cranky lady into neat stacks on the long table along the wall, and then sat with Gripps on a plastic bench waiting for the washing machines to cycle through. She leaned into Gripps' shoulder and held his hand, contently running her fingers across his palm and admiring their matching fingernails.

"What are you doing?" amusement danced across his features.

"This is one of the hands that rescued me," she replied softly, "And I won't forget it."

His voice was gentle, "You rescued us, too, Mandy."

She shrugged and didn't pursue the topic, instead starting a game of Chopsticks that kept them both entertained longer than it should have, as a few more people filtered into the laundromat. Gripps was braiding her hair and their clothes were in the process of drying when he suddenly sat up straight in alarm, looking around.

"What's wrong?" she asked, barely registering as a man pulled a canister out of a black duffel bag a few feet away and aimed it at her and Gripps. White fog rolled over them both, and Gripps slid to the ground with a disturbing thud. She coughed, but intuitively scrambled away from the cloud to put the row of machines in the middle of the store between herself and the attacker.

She made herself small and low against the machines, trying to catch her breath and get a handle on what was happening. She could hear other people shouting, and feet stampeding as they ran out the door. Meanwhile, she instinctively stayed still and quiet, listening.

"Clear?" a voice called from the front of the store.

"He's out," another voice grunted," Fuck! The girl's gone."

"Well, she didn't go out the front door. Did you get her with the gas?"

"Of course I did!" the other voice replied angrily, "I got them both, direct."

Amanda struggled to get control of her thoughts as adrenaline coursed through her, rage bubbling up as she processed the situation. She looked around for a weapon, cursing inwardly for not being ready for this bullshit.

"She's over here," the first voice spoke again quietly, and she glanced over to see the man watching her hungrily from the end of the row. She glared at him, but he didn't move any closer to her. She pulled her eyes away in quick glances as she continued to search for something to help her fight; a plastic "wet floor" sign, a fire extinguisher on the wall at the opposite end of the row….

The man with the canister stepped in at the other end of the row, blocking her from the fire extinguisher.

"How do you want to do this, Kris?" the man with the canister had lots of muscle, a heavy face, and an even heavier voice. His eyes were hard, but dull—like an axe left out in the rain. She swept her gaze back and forth from him to the other man, not wanting to take her eyes off of either of them.

Kris held up a hand to stop the dull man from moving and spoke to Amanda in a soft and pacifying voice, "We're not going to hurt you."

She barked a laugh at him and snarled, "Damn right you're not!" But she was jittery with fear; she could sense danger flowing from him.

He smiled at her, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and continued in the lulling voice, "I'm sure you're scared, and I don't blame you. But I promise you that as long as you cooperate with us, no one is going to hurt you."

She didn't move, glowering at him skeptically; he shrugged, "Okay, then."

He waited a beat, then told the other man calmly, "Use the gas and drive her towards me."

The dull man obeyed without a word, but Amanda ran towards the gas, grabbing the "wet floor" sign in the process. She hit the dull man with the sign, trying to sweep past him to the back door exit. The dull man only had a moment of surprise, dropping the canister and locking his arms around her like pincers. She fought wildly, throwing her head back full force in the process. She heard and felt the "crunch" of his nose breaking, grinning when he released her and doubled over in pain.

She ran to the back door and flung it open, teeth bared in a snarl of victory as she ran out into the sunlight. Until the man waiting there for her tackled her to the ground.


	3. Bad News Delivery

Amanda could hear shouting behind her as panic took over, and she lost control, biting and kicking at the man holding her.

"Hold her still!" Kris shouted from somewhere above her.

"I'm fucking trying!" her captor yelled back.

"Let…me…go!" she screamed at them both.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of metal that didn't make sense until she felt the sting of the needle sliding into her skin. Terror overwhelmed her, and she finally broke away to a simultaneous chorus of "Goddammit!" from both men.

She stumbled forward and realized that she was surrounded by men dressed in black. They circled her, watching her with barely concealed hostility, keeping a space of about ten feet between her and them. Kris motioned them back with an outstretched hand of reassurance as he stepped up to the edge of the circle and studied her.

"What do you want, asshole?" she hissed at him.

He shrugged, "Right now? Nothing, really. Kind of wondering what you're doing here."

She blinked and spluttered, "What I'm doing here? What I'm….Are you fucking crazy?"

"No," he drew out, squinting his eyes, "Surprising that the gas doesn't work on you. You must not be like Project Incubus."

Her eyes narrowed, "Are you Blackwing?"

Some of the other goons chuckled when he laughed, "Blackwing? Government never pays employees what it's willing to pay its contractors. No, no, no…we're what you would call 'fugitive apprehension agents'."

She processed this flatly, "You're bounty hunters? Seriously?"

"It's a living," he shrugged, "Some of us have worked in Blackwing before, of course…." he stopped talking when she swayed and told the rest of the group, "Remember…nobody touch her yet…"

Her vision swam, a wave of dizziness taking over that brought her to hands and knees but was gone almost as quickly as it had come. She eyed Kris, shaky with adrenaline and anger, "What did you do to me?"

"It's just a sedative," his calm voice did nothing to reassure her, and he spoke quickly when she cursed, "Take it easy…there's nowhere for you to go, and nothing you can do about it. It's not going to hurt you, but we've learned not to touch people like you if we can help it. By the way, did you know that they're offering the same price for you as for your boyfriends?"

"Me and my boyfriends are going to kick your ass," she muttered, eyes darting around for an escape route and not finding one.

"We'll…." He cut off as the goon with the bloody and broken nose stumbled out the back door with Gripps slung over his shoulder, dropping Gripps to the ground.

"Gripps!" Amanda shouted anxiously.

"He's okay, he's just sleeping," Kris assured her, unconcerned. The goon glanced over at him, then saw Amanda and charged toward her, his eyes dark with malice.

"Karl!" Kris turned to intercept him with two of the others, "Karl, stop it! Stand down! I dosed her—she'll be asleep in..." he checked his watch, "Nine minutes! Karl!"

"I don't fucking care!" Karl yelled, being held back by two of his colleagues.

Amanda watched Karl warily, but the chill that ran through her had little to do with him. Without taking her eyes off of him, she groped around until she found a fist-sized rock and clenched it tightly. She barely had time to wonder where the others were before Karl surged through with a roar to grab her, dragging the men holding him back along. She scrambled back, kicking and striking out as best she could in pure panic.

"Don't touch her! Don't touch her! KARL!" Kris was bellowing over the noise of Karl roaring and everyone else shouting.  
The clamor was interrupted by the arrival of a sleek, black SUV that turned into the alley and stopped at the end of it and began to move towards the group, which froze in place as if realizing what the scene must look like to others. Back to business, Karl was flung backward again and the group paused to watch the approach of the SUV.

"Team Two is back," Kris announced, with a clear tone of relief in his voice, "Get ready to…."

His words were drowned out by the revving of the engine as the SUV accelerated, then screams as it mowed down the first of the black clad henchmen in front. Amanda laughed as she retreated with the rest of the interlopers towards Gripps. The men didn't retreat for long; Vogel leapt out of the driver's seat of the SUV, and they ran to meet him.

Amanda watched anxiously for only a moment, because Karl took advantage of the opportunity to grab ahold of her left arm painfully. She cried out in pain and struggled for a minute, kicking out uselessly against the much larger and stronger assailant. It wasn't until he brought a hand to the back of her neck and squeezed painfully that she remembered the rock. Her aim was wild in the terror of the fight, but her third blow to his face with the rock hit his broken nose, and a hysterical laugh bubbled up out of her as he dropped her. Before she could move further, Cross barreled through the open back door from the laundromat.

"Hi!" Cross crowed at Amanda as he hit Karl with the crowbar, knocking the goon out cold, "Damn, Drummer—what did you do to make him so mad?"

"I broke his nose," Amanda beamed at him as he hit another goon with the crowbar.

"Nice!"

Amanda knelt next to Gripps as Cross kicked another henchman and reported, "He's breathing! They sprayed him with some kind of gas. Where's Martin?"

The smile Cross gave her was ferociously victorious, "Kicking ass! Right behind me!"

"Good, I…"Amanda swooned as her head spun, and she dipped her head down to Gripps chest for a moment.

"What's wrong with you?" Cross crouched next to her.

"They…they fucking drugged me. He said I'm going to fall asleep in a few minutes," she watched Vogel spinning in circles, surrounded by bounty hunters, "Listen…I'll be fine. Go help Vogel."

Cross glanced at Vogel, "He's good. He's got them outnumbered one to ten," but he frowned as Vogel took a hard fall. He hesitated a moment, then gave Amanda a wrench that had been stuck in his belt loop. She clenched it determinedly, and he nodded approval and moved towards the knot of activity, "I'll be right back."

Amanda watched as Beast jumped from the top of the van, bowling over two bad guys, and then smiled as Cross joined the fight in earnest and bellowed, "TODAY, WE CELEBRATE OUR INDEPENDENCE DAY!"

She almost melted with relief when Martin hurdled through the back door of the laundromat. He counted heads quickly, started towards her, then froze; she understood when she heard the click of a gun near her ear.

"Stop there, Martin," Kris warned from behind her, "We don't want to hurt anyone, but she's easily the most expendable one of all of you."

A growl bubbled up out of Martin's throat, blue energy surrounding him, and Kris warned, "I can shoot her before you can drain me, Martin. Don't try anything stupid."

Even though Martin didn't move, the sense of menace pouring off of him was tangible. Kris recoiled, then scoffed, "Go ahead, Martin—take her fear away. Let her think it's all going to be alright…"

Somewhere in a detached, fascinated part of her mind, Amanda made a note of what Martin looked like when he's really, really angry. His eyes were blazing, but his voice was calm when he spoke, "You never did know when to stop talking, Kamble," his eyes flickered to the wrench in Amanda's hand," And she's not afraid—she's pissed."

At the last word, Amanda grabbed the gun and twisted it to the side, hearing a "snap" and a scream. Kris had managed to don the gas canister and pressed the button now. Gas flooded around them briefly as Martin leapt into Kris with a snarl, and they tumbled away from Amanda, Martin seemingly unaffected as he hit Kris again and again. She couldn't hear the words Martin was muttering through gritted teeth, and she didn't know if it was the drugs or if Martin's anger was so real that the air around him seemed darker.  
She slowly became aware of Gripps' voice raising beside her, "Martin! Martin! Don't kill him! Martin, man...that's enough!"

Martin stopped with a shudder and another furious growl, taking a long, deep breath. Then he glared sideways at Gripps with one eye in silence.

Gripps' voice was hoarse as he repeated softly, struggling to sit up, "It's over, Martin. Don't kill him…not who we are, man."

The lethal tension drained from Martin's shoulders, and he scanned the other side of the alley. Gripps was right…the fight was over, and the other members of the Rowdy 3 were walking over. Amanda's vision was dimming in and out, and Martin crawled over to her with a frown, checking her for injuries.

Cross strode over, kicking the still unconscious Karl on his way, "You alright Gripps?"

"Peachy," Gripps groaned, "You guys good?"

Cross knelt next to Martin, "She said they drugged her. That she's gonna sleep."

Amanda had just enough lucidity to intertwine her fingers through Martin's before the blackness swallowed her whole.


	4. Pocket Full of Why

Amanda fought up to consciousness in pieces, bobbing up twice before finally surfacing slowly into reality. Warm and comfortable, she blinked in the hazy darkness of the Rowdy van, breathing in smoke and the faint scent of sandalwood…. Home. Martin. She was cradled in his lap, head resting on his shoulder. Drowsily, she closed her eyes again and snuggled more closely into him, sighing as his arms tightened around her.

In another second, her eyes flew open and she sat up with a jolt, hyperventilating as the rush and panic of recent events came back to her, "Martin?! What happened?!"

Vogel was watching from the front seat, and reached a hand trailing blue towards her, but Martin slapped it away without a word. Instead, he stroked her arms while holding her and spoke to her very gently," It's okay now, Drummer. It's okay now….Shh…."

She choked out a sob, and he waited out the crying jag, rocking her and rumbling comfort. Vogel tried to help by patting her shoulder awkwardly. In a few minutes, she calmed down and took a last shuddering breath, then told him shakily, "Oh, God, Martin…I'm so sorry…."

The tears started again, and he wiped them off of her face before giving a dark chuckle. At her hurt and angry look, he said quickly, "You got nothing to be sorry for, Drummer. S'all okay now."

"B..but if I wouldn't have split us up, none of this would have happened, and…."

"Hey, it's not your fault," he chuckled again, "We were supposed to be here."

"Yeah, it was the Universe, boss!" Vogel chimed in brightly.

She paused mid-sniffle, "What do you mean, 'it was the Universe'?"

Martin pulled her in to a real hug, then helped her up, "Come on…come see for yourself."

She stood shakily, then groaned, and he grimaced," Yeah, you're going to have some almighty bruises for a little while."

She stopped on the way out the back door to look at a duffel bag laying there that looked new and out of place, "Is that…a bag full of money?"

"Yep," Martin grunted as he helped her step out into the sunlight but didn't explain more.

She guffawed as she saw Kris and Karl tied up together, unconscious, right in front of the back door of the van. Kris had two spectacular black eyes, and Karl looked worse. Neither of them was wearing pants or shirts—just underwear, socks, and badges. About ten other mercenaries were tied up in the same way and spread out in a loose circle. She breathed out, "That's fucking beautiful…."

"Yep," Martin said again, sounding satisfied. She looked back at him, eyes dancing, and he smirked, "We figure we'll leave them like this—in their skivvies, without their payroll, with their badges showing what big, tough, comatose bounty hunters they are. They won't be getting any more work anytime soon."

She frowned, "Why are they all asleep?"

"Farah knocked them out with the same shit they used on you," Martin said slyly.

"Farah's here?" Amanda asked excitedly.

Martin shook his head, "She was here. Come here and take a look," He led her to the other side of the shiny black bounty hunter van, where Cross and Gripps were drinking beer with a middle-aged Latino man, and Beast was eating a slice of pizza.

She exchanged hugs with the Rowdies and Martin introduced her, "Amanda, this is Hector. He owns the laundromat," Martin gestured to a cage in the back of the van, lighting a cigarette, "Dirk, Todd, and Hector's daughter were locked in that thing when we took it. Farah showed up in a tizzy about ten minutes after you passed out. As soon as we cut them loose, Dirk started babbling some nerdy bullshit about algae and they had to hit the road," he lifted a piece of paper folded in half, "Your brother said sorry he couldn't stick around and left a letter for you. Farah said the shots these guys used were standard military tranquilizers and told us you'd wake up in a couple of hours, then knocked out the mercs."

"Oh…kay," Amanda rolled her eyes at the letter and processed the explanation, "Hector, your daughter…is she unusual?"

Hector and the other Rowdies nodded thoughtfully in the affirmative and Amanda groused at Martin, "Martin! How do you know she wasn't supposed to be with us?"

Gripps answered, "Didn't feel that way, Mandy."

Cross and Martin nodded agreement, and Martin waved his cigarette in emphasis, "Dirk was pretty adamant, Drummer."

"Alright," she conceded, then frowned, spooked, "Where did these guys come from? They had gas, Martin."

"Bunch of Blackwing flunkies," Cross grunted, swigging his beer.

"Yeah, we remember Kris and Karl—they were two dipshit guards," Martin grumbled, "They must have stolen some of this stuff. That gas was 15 years old. That's why it didn't work all that well. They tried to jump us at Wal Mart, but the canisters didn't work."

Hector laughed without mirth, "Fire marshal is on his way as soon as you all clear out. Won't be happy to hear about how they brought in all these hazardous chemicals and set my place on fire trying to catch fugitives. Bounty hunters are illegal in Nebraska—they paid off the local cops, but the fire marshal will nail them."

"They set your place on fire?" Amanda looked behind her at the still-intact building in confusion.

Hector bared his teeth and commented dryly, "They're about to, as soon as you kids leave. Imagine my surprise."

"Hector is getting the other bag of money we found," Martin explained.

Hector shrugged, "You rescued my daughter. It's a good bargain."

Amanda smiled at Hector, liking him, and nudged another prone figure on the ground, "So what's the Pizza Hut dude doing here?"

Cross countered defensively, "I was still hungry!"

Beast mumbled her agreement, nodding vigorously through a mouthful of pizza.

Amanda blinked at them, then sat down on the ground and laughed until tears came to her eyes, deep belly laughs that healed the lingering edginess from the day. When she finished, Martin helped her up and shook Hector's hand, "Hector—good to meet you. Let's go, boys!"

"Bartender!" Cross took the proffered bottle of alcohol from Gripps, and Hector lit the rag stuck in it, "Bombs away!"

They watched the laundromat go up in flames, then piled into the Rowdy van as sirens started wailing in the distance. They left town in high spirits with Hector waving goodbye behind them, "Be safe, kids!"

They were forty minutes outside of town, having made a clean getaway, when Amanda sat up from where she was leaning against Cross, who was playing with her hair, "Where's the laundry?"

Dead silence fell. Martin blew out a ring of smoke and commented, "Guess we'll be making another Wal Mart run..."


End file.
